


Dammit!

by Skipp



Category: Blink-182
Genre: M/M, Matt is too hard on himself, surprise stage antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13080021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp
Summary: Matt tries to suprise Mark with his bass skills.





	Dammit!

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay to fuck up. We all learn.
> 
>  
> 
> *****
> 
> All mistakes are mine, all characters appearing in these works are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The situations, the dialogs and other relations are all fictional. The characters have their own personalities and choices that are not those of the real people. 
> 
> Do not post any of my works published here or elsewhere without my explicit permission.

How many times did he heard the song? Countless times.

How many times did he played the song? Countless times.

How long did he practiced the song? Countless fucking times.

When he decided to pull this surprise through he stayed locked up in his bus and dressing room fucking four days in a row, nervous, skittish at every door open, quickly hiding the acoustic bass from every unexpected guest. The chords are easy, the whole song is so easy and simple, yet so brilliant. But he plays the bass part. Mark’s part. He did not remember being this apprehensive over learning the chords to  _Wake Up Exhausted_. Even learning Tom’s part did not make him so tense. He knew he was allowed, or better - urged to improvise, to put in his own twist.

Matt got the tab from Mark many many years ago, scribbled on a paper torn out of a notebook, decorated with little dog doodles around the edges, one looking suspiciously constipated. Now the paper is worn out, the original pen outlined with fat black ink as Matt tried to preserve the writing, torn at one corner.

The plan was to surprise Mark and trade instruments for the last encore song. Matt knew that if you would wake up Mark at 5.30 in the morning and ask for the guitar chords in the  _Lemmings_  bridge he would nail them right. And add the drum part too. Mark knew every single note that blink ever played inside out, in reverse, falling out of a plane. Swapping to guitar would not be a problem for him at all.

So Matt dusted off his knowledge of  _Dammit_ , ganged up with Travis and Mark’s guitar tech Rob and set up the surprise.

The expression on Mark’s face when Matt said to the crowd „Every evening we share with you guys is extra special for us and I want to, umm, step up the game. Let’s trade your bass Mark, for my guitar and vice versa,“ was priceless. Soft, fond and excited at the same time, the face of a person who found their soul mate and swoons over him appreciating what he holds dear. Mark looked like he would melt right then and there, on the pink confetti bits covering the floor.

But fuck no, he has to fuck up the chords in the bridge. Like FUCK ME, how amateur of him. Imagine how disappointed Mark has to be now, knowing Matt messed up. Messed up  _his_ part.

Travis is ending Dammit and the whole set with a vicious drum roll, the crowd is exploding, they’re only a few notes away from the end. Matt dares to sneak a glimpse at Mark who is busy making faces at the people on the first row.  _Sorry I failed you, I’ll try to make it up to you_.

He can already imagine the comments on instagram, twitter, everywhere… „Skiba fucked up, wow what a SURPRISE“; „You managed to fuck up  _Dammit_ , my twelve years old brother can play that! Go back to your emo band, loser“; „Tom would not mess it up“ etc.

Travis trashes the cymbals and the last hits to the toms mark the end of their set. The break is promptly filled out with outro music as the crowd continues to cheer.

Mark and Travis cheer back, clapping and bowing but Matt decides to flee the scene of the crime in humiliation. With one thank you wave he exits the stage, entrusting Mark’s bass to Rob, and tries to get out while avoiding offered handshakes and high fives from the crew and others.

He basically runs to his bus. No shower and chill, no drinks, no patting on shoulders. He locks himself inside and throws himself on the fake leather couch in the lounge area. How long should he roll in shame before he is ready to face his friends and say how sorry he is? Probably a century. No, a century is not enough to face Mark.

As he is rolling on the couch he hears loud banging on the door and yelling.

„Hey, hey Matt, it’s Electric, are you there? Answer me, please… Matt?! Look man, I’m your bodyguard, I need to know where you are.“

Matt groans. „Yeah, I’m here man, don’t worry. I’m fine!“ Matt yells back apologetic. A little lie never hurt anyone, right?

„Okay, I’ll be backstage if you need me.“

„Yeah, sure, enjoy your time.“ Matt throws hands over his eyes and groans again.  _How could you mess up such a simple thing?_

He lies on the couch couple more moments before he decides to take a shower. One of the luxuries he can enjoy while riding on this big ass tour bus. Not just one weak stream shower where the water is always used up by Dan, but a spacious, beige colored corner thingy where you actually can stand tall with huge shower head and a generous flow of hot water.

Matt digs around in his things to find a fresh shirt, pants and underwear. He stands under the stream, soapy suds pooling at his feet , trying to avoid every possible though of the botched up surprise.

Dressed and feeling a little bit better he goes to the kitchen, takes a bottle of smart water from the fridge, contemplating whether he should meditate the mishap away. He rubs at his lips, trying not to chew on the fold of excess skin next to his nails.

Another loud pounding on the door brings him back to place. Matt goes to get the door. Electric is sometimes too much of a mother hen. But when he sees that Mark is standing behind the smokey tinted doors he hesitates.

Mark bangs on the door again yelling „Matt, I know you’re there! Please let me in.“

Matt bows his head in resignation, a few drops fall from his still wet hair and pushes the button to open the bus door.

„Man, where the hell are you?“ Mark is within his personal space in a second.

„Here, hiding my loser ass,“ Matt confides and retreats back inside the bus with Mark tight on his heels.

„The hell? Why? You left the stage like that? You didn’t even high fived with Landon and he’s upset.“

Matt’s shoulders sink an inch lower. „Sorry I messed up  _Dammit,_ I wanted to make it a surprise and I fucked up your part in front of you, Travis, the audience, crew, in front of everyone. Sorry for being such a fuck ass,“ Matt stops still in the lounge, watching Mark anxiously.

But Mark just rolls his eyes. „Man, who cares if you messed up. I don’t. You were awesome. I did not see that coming! And Rob is a traitor, he did not said a word about it,“ he gesticulates smiling, crows feet forming at the corner of his eyes. „I think you made an awesome thing and a funny joke on top of that. Let me give you a hug, you shake like one of the tiny dogs Tracy is always carrying,“ Mark reaches for Matt and hugs him.

You could literary hear the stone drop from Matt’s heart. His head feels light and he’s smiling into Mark’s shoulder. He hugs him back, squeezing a little  _ooof_ out of Mark. „I’m sorry, I was so afraid you would be angry with me,“ Matt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, swaying them a little to the sides. Mark smells like like citrus and wood, with just a tiny touch of flowers. It’s comforting and Matt realizes he never wants to give up on this soothing feeling, the warmth of Mark’s chest, the shelter of his arms.


End file.
